Drew Magary

Drew Magary's Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo runs every Thursday during the NFL season. Find more of his stuff at his Twitter feed.

Championship Sunday! BOOSH! One of these games always sucks, but which one? I need to plan my binge drinking accordingly, dammit! If I get blazingly drunk during the first game and it's awful, I won't be lucid enough to enjoy the second, especially now that Four Loko has been outlawed! I wish they'd let you know the shit game in advance. Let's dig in to this feast.

The GamesAll games in the Jamboroo are evaluated for sheer watchability on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms. And during the playoffs, I pick the games, because why not.

Is it really possible that nobody has figured it out yet, that the way to stop Jay Cutler is to rub the ball down with sugar? Seems like basic common sense, no?

Sure does! Either way, I'm not picking against Aaron Rodgers again. If the Packers win this game, Ted Thompson should be allowed to walk around Green Bay with his dick out for at least a month, and he should be able to rub his dick on anyone wearing a Favre jersey without repercussions. Please note that Skip Bayless said this on ESPN Radio in November of 2008:

"Ted Thompson's running Brett Favre out of Green Bay was the biggest mistake by a GM in the history of the league."

Brett Favre's come-ons to massage therapists weren't limited to the two women with the…
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you don't.know what.its.like to not be touched by a woman for three weeks

This is why people hate pro athletes. This text message was obviously unsuccessful for Favre in this instance, but it has almost certainly worked for him in the past. Both Favre and Tiger Woods have absolutely no game with women and it doesn't matter because they're pro athletes. And that is fucking ANNOYING. Normal men like you and I have to work our asses off to get laid. Under normal circumstances, getting laid is a goddamn miracle, especially if you look and sound like me. You have to say all the right things. You have to hit all the right notes. The slightest mistake during the course of the evening can end up FUCKING YOU WITH A TREE. And here comes fucking Brett Favre stumbling along, sending text messages that sound like a fucking 19th century women's novel and lack any semblance of cohesion (of course she doesn't know what it's like, she's a heterosexual woman) or proper punctuation. But no matter. LIFE IS JUST A PUSSY BUFFET FOR THE OL' SANDLOTSLINGER. These men don't appreciate getting laid the way you or I do, dammit. Fucking dicks.

Last thing: Despite the fact that he plays for my team's archrival, I can't find it in my heart to hate Aaron Rodgers. It's virtually impossible. The fact that he's not Brett Favre, and that he seems like a perfectly decent guy, and that he looks EXACTLY like BJ Novak… I just can't hate him. Even the cancer lady incident turned decisively in his favor. He needs to win multiple Super Bowls, and have Gruden and Jaworski fellate him endlessly for a few more seasons, and then I think Aaron Rodgers will gain some semblance of hateability. But for now? A delightful man. Kinda makes me hate him. THINK YOU'RE MR. MODEST, DO YOU?!

Jets (+3.5) 10, Steelers 7: I like games like Pats/Jets last week where you assume the underdog can't win, then the underdog takes a lead, and then you spend the rest of the game with your nuts in your throat because you expect the tide to turn at any time. Throw in the fact that you really have no clue what's gonna happen when Nacho throws the ball and it made the whole viewing experience that much more tense. I could barely sit down that whole game. I felt like if anything touched my ass, five pounds of shit would come flying out. Maybe I shouldn't take a fiber supplement. Anyway, upsets like that never stop being awesome.

Now for the random crap:

-True story: When I was in school, I once had an English teacher we called Mr. D. Mr. D was a relatively young dude, with long hair and horn-rimmed glasses. And this guy was fucking intense. Very intense. He spent every weekend rock climbing alone, and when one of the kids in class asked why, he told us this story:

He had a girlfriend a while back that he loved deeply. And this girlfriend of his also loved rock climbing. So every weekend, they'd go out rock climbing together. I assume they'd do it at the top of the mountain, but I never asked him point blank about that. Well, one time they're climbing this mountain and she slips off the cliff face and falls God-knows-how-many feet down onto the rocks below. She was killed instantly. When Mr. D was asked to go and identify her body, he said that her body was separated into several Ziploc bags.

After she died, he told us he made it his mission to climb every possible rock he could find in her honor. And he did just that. He climbed mountain after mountain, and whenever he got to the top he'd carve her name in a tree or into the dirt as a memorial.

And that, friends, is why I'll never go rock climbing. That shit is crazy.

-A while back, we bought this Little Tikes basketball hoop for my kid, so that the kid would be all active and shit (but not so active that she'd start climbing rocks). Anyway, these things are fucking AWESOME. It's like Pop-a-Shot, but a million times easier, which I like because it makes me look good. And I will tell you right now that dunking on a hoop that's three feet off the ground is just as satisfying as dunking on a hoop that's considerably higher off the ground. When you're as white as I am, A DUNK IS A DUNK IS A DUNK. It does not matter how it's achieved. I could shoot on this hoop for hours on end. The only problem is when the fucking kids actually want to play with it. They hog the ball. They can't shoot for shit. They don't hustle for rebounds. They're awful to play with. One day, they'll be out of the house and working at Sonic and the hoop will be MINE, ALL MINE. And I will place it next to a $10 CVS wading pool and I will get high and start water dunking and it will be the time of my life.

-I'm a big fan of the "towel hanging from the waistband" look on any NFL player on the field. It makes you look way more badass. I tried doing this when I played football and I looked like a fat kid who had tucked his napkin into the wrong garment, but I still thought I looked way cool. That look reminds me of "Dr. Death" from The Best of Times, which is an awful movie you should never ever watch. Robin Williams lines up against Dr. Death, and Dr. Death has this towel hanging down from his waist that said DR. DEATH and had a big skull on it. If I were an intimidating black linebacker, I'd totally sport that look. Even off the field. Even while wearing a suit during the postgame interview.

-I spend an inordinate amount of time during any FOX game I watch daydreaming of being a player and being interviewed after the game by Pam Oliver. YEAH IT WAS HARD OUT THERE TODAY PAM BUT COACH SAID FOR US TO KEEP BELIEVIN' AND GOOD THINGS WOULD HAPPEN AND THEY DID. HEY, WHY DON'T WE GO BACK TO MY PLACE SO I CAN FEEL ON YOUR BOOTY? I'm a very flirty postgame interview.

-In a Deadcast a while back, I said that it was a lifelong dream of mine to make a really shitty hip hop song out of the cooing at the opening of "Caddyshack." Well, reader Dejen took that sample and made a beat out of it. And now all I want to do is go drinking and boating. We can make a song of this, people. Just give me a million dollars for production and licensing costs, and then I can bring in Rihanna to do the "Listen to your heaarrrrt, baby" part and have Q-Tip spit out two or three verses underneath. We'll all be rich! RICHER THAN RICH!

-I have a two-year-old who's just learning to speak. This child likes juice a lot (NOTE: Never give children juice. It's just soda with a better reputation). Only he can't say the word "juice." Instead, he points at the fridge and starts screaming out JEW! JEW! JEW! This amuses me to no end. I keep picturing my own child being put in charge of the Third Reich and yelling out to subordinates JEW! JEW! BRING ME THE JEW! I'm not a very good parent.

-I'd like to know where strippers buy their evening gowns. You can't just walk into JC Penney and find a nylon dress with a slit that goes up to the belly button. There has to be some kind of discount stripper supply warehouse where they can go for evening gowns, belly chains, and clear plastic heels. But I've never seen such an emporium out in the free world, and I'd really like to find one to hang out in, because I am shady.

-We always joke about certain subjects and pictures being Nightmare Fuel on this site, like Nightmare Ant and shit. But that shit doesn't really give you nightmares. It's all fairly benign. You're just like, "Whoa! Nightmare fuel!" And then you go back to jacking off. But those pictures of Al Davis from earlier in the week really were nightmarish. There needs to be a hashtag that's one step past Nightmare Fuel that lets you know, "No, really. These images are fucking terrifying. It's not a joke this time." Because those pictures are truly disturbing. I can't stop thinking about them. The man is openly bleeding at all times, for fuck's sake. He looks like he's being eaten by vultures already. He shouldn't be allowed out like that. He needs to be consigned to bedrest until death and swabbed with warm sponges. I can't even imagine how much pus was left on the podium after that conference. I hope I never come across those pictures again.

Al Davis is 81, at least in human years. That he's walking and talking and introducing Hue…
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-Bud Light isn't even trying anymore. It's fucking pathetic. "Hey look! Aliens are here and they're hot and want to fuck us and give us beer! HA HA THAT'S FUNNY!" I bet that ad cost $5 million, too. At least make an effort, you lazy dicks. I've seen Adam Sandler movies done with more care.

-Mike Tomlin challenged the opening play of the game last week. This was a challenge he won, and it forced the Ravens to start the game at the 35, instead of at midfield. But should he have challenged it? But the end of the first quarter, all of Tomlin's challenges were exhausted, and he would have been fucked if the Steelers had gotten jobbed on a call later on. That's why the current challenge system is stupid. Even though Tomlin made a correct challenge the first time out, it still didn't net him an extra challenge after he fucked up the second one on the Ravens' fumble return TD. Why do you have to get both challenges right to merit another? The rule should be this: You get two wrong challenges. After that, no more challenges. You can challenge as many calls as you like in a game so long as you're right. I don't know why you only get three challenges even if you're right on all of them. It's stupid, and it makes throwing a challenge flag on the very first play of the game (even if it's clearly going to be overturned) a dubious decision, because it exhausts a challenge so quickly. You're at the mercy of the refs to not bone you over more than three times, and that's never a guarantee. I don't get it. And I certainly don't care if it extends the game. That just means more drankin'.

-I had a nap last weekend that lasted a half an hour but seemed to last three seconds in mind. I closed my eyes. Then I opened them. BOOM. Thirty minutes elapsed. I didn't feel rested at all. I totally wanted a do-over.

-Reader YinzersArePeopleToo dislikes stink bugs:

Like a lot of people in the Northeast I've been having problems with stink bugs. My hatred for these creatures has grown so strong I've taken to executing them in cruel and unusual ways. I've frozen them with upside-down cans of compressed air, fried them with those long fireplace lighters, dismembered them with scissors, decapitated them with utility knives, and drowned them in rubbing alcohol.

I hadn't seen any of them in a while until two nights ago when I found one in my bed. I snapped. I grabbed the little fucker and tossed it in the toilet, sat down, and unleashed hell. It just so happened that I was about to head to the can to unleash a wing-and-beer fueled nightmare from my bowels and I took the opportunity to destroy this fucking stink bug in the process.

The thing was still alive when I flicked it into the toilet but it was most certainly dead when I was done letting loose twenty minutes later. I fucking hate stink bugs.

If you are unfamiliar with stink bugs, you should know that they are very slow bugs that sometimes hang out on the walls of your place. They're extremely easy to kill, which is why I don't shit my pants when I see one, the way I do when a cave cricket pops up. The reason they're called stink bugs is because they release a bad odor when you crush them with a tissue. It kind of smells like old people, which is weird yet fascinating.

Anyway, I bring up this email because just last week, I woke up in the middle of the night and felt something on my neck. I grabbed at it and it was a stink bug hanging out on my sleeping naked body. CRIMINY! My biggest fear is that bugs will come and crawl into my mouth and anus while I'm asleep, and this fucker was this close to hitting paydirt. I'm sleeping with a billy club from now on.

You'd expect, for instance, that anyone savvy enough to read Slate would know the proper rules of typing, but you'd be wrong

No, I'd expect anyone savvy enough to read Slate to be someone I'd like to kiss with the front of a speeding truck. This article prompted any number of replies, most of them way less pretentious and annoying than the original piece. I myself always use two spaces after a period (HTML autocorrects it in these Deadspin posts), but only because someone taught me it was the right way ages ago and I can't go back. Literally. I've tried. I know it's incorrect to use two spaces after a period, and I accept that. But I can't untrain my mind to do it. It's too ingrained. I tried doing it the other day and damn near had a brain hemorrhage. I can't change, so fuck it. I'm staying with two. In fact, given what a prick that Slate guy was about it, I'm gonna use three spaces after all my periods from now on. SUCK ON THAT.

"Battery," by Metallica. We bust out the classics for a week like this one. The transition between the acoustic intro and the opening electric riff makes me want to tear off my own arm and beat someone to death with it.

BONUS Pregame Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall

"Night Train" by Guns N Roses. FACT: Drinking while listening to this song improves drinking by 82%. God, this whiskey tastes great. Know what would make it taste even better? If I could hear a song about a man intent on drinking himself to death playing in the background. FUCK YEAH SLUTS!

When I was in college, our English teacher told us to make up our own assignment for the class one week. Teachers are idiots like that. So the assignment I came up with was to have everyone bring in the lyrics to a song that they found meaningful as spoken poetry. I chose this assignment because it was easy. So a friend of mine from the class named Dave came in the next day with the lyrics to this song and began to read them out loud. And he read ALL of it, even when it repeats itself over and over again at the end. Plus all of the asides, like I LOVE THAT STUFF! Then he cornered me outside of class afterwards and said to me, "Don't make me do an assignment like that again. That was the stupidest fucking thing ever." And it was, but it was AWESOME.

Embarrassing Song I Once Liked That Will Not Fire You Up

"Together Again," by Janet Jackson. Why is she hanging out with elephants? Why is her hair purple, and shaped like a cactus? It's all so confusing.

Janet Jackson has come in many iterations over the years, and I have found only three of them worthy of heavy masturbation:

"Together Again" Janet doesn't make the cut. No one oscillates between spankworthy and non-spankworthy as much as Janet does. By the way, Janet was 18 when she played Charlene, and I was much younger than that when I was whacking it to her. So in way, Janet was taking advantage of me. Shame on you, Damita Jo.

Gregg Easterbrook Is A Haughty Dipshit
Matt Taibbi once ripped Easterbrook for always trying to have it both ways in his football arguments. Fortune favors the bold, BUT WHY ARE YOU BLITZING? Etc. Well, there can't be a better example of that than this week's TMQ. All season long, Greggggg has praised the Patriots for having lots of unwanted players and NO GLORY BOYS, and that surplus of presumed moral grittiness was the key to them Woodheading their way through the league. But this week? The Patriots lost BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL AND LACK VIRTUE.

There are many reasons for New England's postseason woes: some specific to the Patriots, others generic to all football, one particular to a great performance by the Jets' defense. But Tuesday Morning Quarterback thinks this is the core reason: The football gods are not yet finished punishing Bill Belichick for Spygate.

Think about how breathtakingly dumb that is. Easterbrook then goes on to list a handful of legitimate reasons why New England lost (none of which include the Jets, you know, playing better). But his first reason is some karmic bullshit that has nothing at all to do with the actual playing of football. It's like if Bill James said to you, "Advanced metrics prove that Derek Jeter is a pretty awful fielder. But the main reason he sucks at shortstop is because HE HAS PREMARITAL INTERCOURSE."

I say this as someone who isn't exactly a Patriots fan: It's time to let SpyGate go. Really. It's over. No one fucking cares. The only reason to bring up SpyGate is if you hate New England and want to tar their three titles as illegitimate, which I approve of but is ultimately wrong. There was also this tidbit:

TMQ is a gun owner.

"Quick, official son of TMQ! Shoot that Jew!"

Nazi Shark's Vegas Lock Of The WeekLots of sports sites, to demonstrate the arbitrary nature of gambling, like to have animals like monkeys pick games to see if they can outwit their human counterparts. There's no reason we at Deadspin can't also get in on the fun. So we've asked National Socialist German Workers' Party member Rolf, who also happens to be a shark, to pick one game a week. Take it away, Nazi shark.

"This week, I like Pittsburgh giving 3.5 points at home against the Jets. I see that Israel has deployed vultures to spy on Saudi Arabian interests. And to steal my collection of dead carrion floating in the Persian Gulf, no doubt! You Jew vultures stay the Hell away from my carrion pile! I worked long and hard amassing those seal carcasses! You won't swindle me out of that rotting flesh buffet!"

2010 Nazi Shark Record: 12-6-1 (2-0 playoffs)

Great Moments In Poop History
Next week is the dreaded week between the conference title games and the Super Bowl, which means it will be time again for another annual POOPOROO, a post filled with nothing but Great Moments In Pooping and Farting. So if you have a poop story that's been working its way through your system and really needs to get out and make a splash, this is the time to send it in.

Reader Nick sends in a fantastic story I call IN POOPS:

Last weekend a group of friends and I were at the Delirium bar in Brussels. It's the Guinness Book World Record Holder for types of beers with over 2000 to choose from, so needless to say we all got tanked. When my friend and I leave at 4am, we somehow got split up in the winding alleys of Brussels. I end up getting robbed by a little Portuguese man and exploring Brussels until I find our hotel at 8am, but even though he is blackout drunk he somehow makes it back first.

The following events we have had to piece together since he doesn't really remember any of it. He got back to the hotel and starts banging on doors until some girls we barely know let him into their room. He passes out face down on their floor and even though he snores horribly they let him stay. Well, at some point in the night he gets thirsty and gets up to find a drink. He finds a partially full glass of water by the sink and downs it. Unfortunately for him, this wasn't water but one of the girl's contacts lenses and solution. This plus this belly full of beer must have set off a reaction because he starts to feel a rumbly in his tumbly.

However, in his drunken haze he mistook the foldout luggage rack as the toilet. So he popped a squat right on top of it and the poop fell between the bands to the floor. So he finishes his business and passes out again. He woke up the next morning before the girls, who were all sleeping with their covers over their heads due to the unknown smell, and looks for his lost phone. He sees an object which he believes to be his phone and reaches under the rack to get it. His hand is instead met with the still warm feel of a Belgian beer poo. Although this was not to be the last time he touched it, because the girls made his clean it up when the discovered it the next morning. And yes, he shit out the contacts later that day.

Even grosser, he ate fries covered in mayo later that day! EWWWWWWW.

Fire This Asshole!
Is there anything more exciting than a coach losing his job? All year long, we'll keep track of which coaches will almost certainly get fired at year's end or sooner. And now, your final chopping block:

Looks like that's the end of the hirings and firings for this year. I like that Al Davis said he fired Tom Cable for all the shit that should have gotten Tom Cable fired a year and a half ago. Way to be quick on the draw, Band Aid Guy.

Gametime Snack Of The Week

Fried Zucchini! All vegetables become much more palatable when dredged in flour and then fried beyond recognition. I'm a big fan.

I also like the vegetable tempura they serve at Japanese restaurants. I could drink a liter of that sauce straight up. The only problem with vegetable tempura is that it takes you at least a second to figure out just which vegetable you happen to be eating. And sometimes, you draw the sweet potato. Not the crown jewel of that basket.

Gametime Cheap Beer Of The Week

VERGINA BEER! It puts the ‘Gina in your beer! Reader AK sent this in from Greece as part of a trip he took around the world with his girlfriend. What's odd is that there are cans in the background with the exact same design that say BEPTINA, or whatever that weird upside down L is supposed to be. I feel like all Greek cheap beer must have at least two stray body hairs in it. So terrifying. I MUST HAVE IT. But it's not the only fascinating liquid our man came across on his travels…

Gametime Cheap Wine Of The Week

WRESTLER WINE! From Cambodia, where all wine is made of infant blood or your ammo back! AK says:

I know it's not a beer, but this shit may be the greatest liquid to ever be bottled. For better or worse, my muscles did nothing like the advertisement showed it would.

There is so much wrong about that bottle that just looking at makes me feel hung over and infected with syphilis.

Robert Evans' Super Bowl MVP Watch!Time to start thinking about who the leaders are for the NFL's Super Bowl MVP award. So every week, legendary Hollywood producer Robert Evans will join us to give us his assessment. Take it away, Mr. Evans.

"Baby, my favorite for the NFL's Super Bowl MVP is Aaron Rodgers of the Packers! Whoa, baby! NEW BLOOD! All hail the new champ! Savvy? YOU BET! Poised? LIKE A COBRA WAITING TO STRIKE!

"You know, I couldn't help but notice that the editor of this site was profiled in GQ this week, and that Frank DeFord was quoted in the article. Now, you may not know this, but DeFord and Evans go way back. WAY back. And even back in the day, he still had that greasy hair and pencil mustache. I heard he once stomped a guy to death at the dog track. He was a weird guy. He has these incredibly thick fingers, like three regular fingers lashed together. And he'd always hold them up in front of me and say to me, ‘Evans, you know where these fingers have been, don't you?' And then just laugh for five minutes straight. Really unsettling.

"We made a sex movie together once. Not for public consumption, mind you. EVANS DOESN'T WORK THE VALLEY TRADE. But we had these two starlets up in my suite at the Pierre one night. Champagne? YOU BET! Anal beads? I THINK SO! And DeFord kept pressing me to break out the Handicam for our little soiree. Well, after enough cocaine, it seemed like an okay idea. So I start the film rolling and we all start blocking our scene, if you know what I mean. And I'm trying to get into it and I just keep looking over and seeing DeFord putting his huge rhino fingers in this poor girl and he looked so… so CREEPY doing it! I couldn't focus! And he was laughing this weird laugh the whole time, like he knew something I didn't. Like Nicholson's laugh, but not as cool. Well, I just up and bolted. I told Frank I had a meeting with Korshak that I had forgotten about. And DeFord says to me, ‘Don't worry Robert. I've got two hands and two plans.' Terrifying."

Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Panthers Fans

The Town. I know critics slobbered all over Ben Affleck for this movie (Look! He can direct! He's not just a fucking idiot!), but come on. What was with the fucking montage of him doing pushups and pullups without a shirt on? Was that really needed to advance the plot? Besides, this was the most obvious ripoff of Heat I've ever seen. Even the music during the heist scenes was a spitting image of the Heat score. It was like Affleck said to everyone, "Yeah, Heat was awesome. But what know what would make it more badass? If we set it IN FACKIN' BAWSTON, THE TOUGHEST TOWN IN AMERICAHHHH!"

Then there's the fucking ending. (SPOILER ALERT) First of all, no fucking way he gets away with it. None. That was retarded. Secondly, I didn't WANT him to get away with it. You're supposed to be all sympathetic to his character or whatever by the end, but I wasn't. His character was a fucking douchebag bank robber. I wanted him to get mowed down like a fucking weed on the sidewalk. I hope the Feds found his ass in Tangerine, Florida and clubbed him to death.

Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
"Oooh, lemon party! I call first squeeze!"

NOTE: That line came from last week's episode, which was a solid episode. Man, it's nice to see the Simpsons be funny again.

Halftime Masturbation Kit
-For the guys: Cintia Dicker, who has red hair. And not much clothing.
-For the gals: I got nothing this week. You gays and lady readers need to send me more beefcake. Links only, please. Don't attach some oiled guy to your email.